


Undecipherable

by ioo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oikawa's trying to confess through cryptic messages as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioo/pseuds/ioo
Summary: The sound of the door slamming against the wall has Hajime startling back to the present. He looks at the source of the disturbance and finds himself face to face with Oikawa, red in the face with breathlessness and a leather-bound notebook tightly clutched in both of this hands. When he spots Hajime, he makes a beeline for the bench and slaps it down right next to him."Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."





	Undecipherable

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for my bf bc i got the idea for this when I was trying to explain how i felt abt him and life is hard cuz my mother tongue (french) is really emo about love LOL  
> he normally reads porn so maybe he'll never read this and that's a-okay with me  
> forgive me if i didnt accurately translate some of the words i dont speak all of these languages haha

 

 

 1. 

_Off-season_ is something Hajime quickly discovers only belongs in the circles of younger athletes and when one plays in the professional world. Half a year in college, and he hasn't gotten, or taken, a single break from volleyball. Shirt bunched around his armpits, not quite on, not quite off, he stares at the rows of lockers, at the one labelled _Oikawa Tooru,_ standing right next to one labelled _Iwaizumi Hajime._ The breeze flowing in from the open door to the locker rooms is cold, but he barely feels it, as he thinks _even here._ Even a row of lockers can dangle, like a piece of bait, how close he is to Oikawa, and how close he will never get.

Hajime scoffs. Together, always together, through shared lockers and seating arrangements and friends since childhood. They've always been together, sure. But not as _together_ as he wishes.

Hajime turns toward the door and wonders where exactly the permanent subject of his thoughts is, because for the first time in his entire life, probably, Oikawa Tooru is late to volleyball practice. 

He isn't _late_ per se, practice hasn't started yet, but he is late by his own impossibly high standards. Oikawa Tooru makes it a show to arrive -1st, if he can manage, before the coach himself shows up. Then, when the other team members, veterans and newbies alike, begin to trickle into the changing rooms, he's already in his uniform, warmups completed and a shit-eating grin on his face.

_You're late Iwa-chan,_ he says, though Hajime usually arrives 5th or 6th, in their first year group, behind the ever diligent Sawamura and Ushijima, and a few other members who were not from the same prefecture as him, and whose name he still hasn't memorised after all this time. There's always room to tease, when one is as perfectionist as Oikawa Tooru. 

Hajime curses himself for noticing a detail that should, in reality, have been insignificant, and turns back to face the lockers. Oikawa could have been held up by a numerous amount of things, harmless things. After all, he is no less popular in college than he was in high school, and behind-the-gym confessions have gone up in numbers, to the point where Hajime sometimes has to physically drag Oikawa out of the crowds of admirers, lest he never escape by himself. 

Though, if Hajime were to brave honesty, he'd admit to himself that perhaps jealousy was the main driving force behind his actions. Hajime has become finely attuned to having Oikawa at his side, and when he is not, his very own treacherous heart prompts him to look for the errant soul of one Oikawa Tooru, to bring it back into orbit, away from _girls_ and _flirting_ and _goukon_.

The sound of the door slamming against the wall has Hajime startling back to the present. He looks at the source of the disturbance and finds himself face to face with Oikawa, red in the face with breathlessness and a leather-bound notebook tightly clutched in both of this hands. When he spots Hajime, he makes a beeline for the bench and slaps it down right next to him.

" _Koi no yokan_ ," he says. 

"Hah?"

Oikawa rolls his eyes. " _Koi no yokan,_ Iwa-chan, were you listening to me?" He flips open the journal and reads from within. "The feeling upon meeting someone that you are destined to be together."

Hajime isn't quite sure what to do with this information, nor why Oikawa is looking at him so expectantly. 

"Okay?" Hajime slips his shirt over his head. "What does that have to do with anything? Change into your uniform, airhead, you're almost late for practice."

Oikawa settles down on the bench, and it rattles under his weight. He bends down to untie his shoelaces. "Isn't it romantic?" he chirps. "Meeting someone and thinking 'we're going to fall in love, it's inevitable'?"

Hajime doesn't reply, opting instead to tie the last of his shoelaces, pick up his water bottle, and stand up.

"We're _late,_ " he insists, and walks out of the changing rooms.  

 

 

_Hajime does not have clear memories of his childhood. He remembers vague images, some strongly felt emotions - like the first time he lost a tooth, or when his father first left on a business trip - but unlike Oikawa, he cannot recite most of the events that happened during his earliest years. Nevertheless, Hajime remembers the first time he met Oikawa as clear as crystal. He remembers the tears clouding his golden eyes, the blush on his cheeks, and the unruly hair. He remembers the way Oikawa whimpered when his mother gently pulled him away from her legs, and ushered him in Hajime's direction, coos and whispers of 'he's a neighbour' and 'make friends with him!' followed by Oikawa's protesting whines._

_Hajime remembers, even to this day, feeling a strange pull, like an ethereal hand had wrapped around his own and tugged him towards this reluctant and shy crybaby._

 

 

 

 

2.

" _Wabi sabi,_ " Oikawa mutters, hushed enough that Sawamura and a few other of their newfound friends, who have taken to crowding around the both of them in a semblance of _eating lunch together_ and _bonding with the team,_ will not hear their conversation. He reaches up and wipes Hajime's face with a wet napkin. "To find beauty in imperfections."

"The hell does that have to do with this?" Hajime grumbles through a mouthful of food.

Oikawa smiles, a soft little curl of his lips so incongruous to his normal attitude that it takes Hajime aback a tiny bit. Then, he simply says, "I've been looking more into those words that cannot be translated into other languages."

Hajime can tell when Oikawa's interest has been peaked, but he wonders why it is that language, and all of its numerous disparities, has suddenly become the new point of obsession. Though Oikawa has aced every class in both high school and college, much to Hajime's chagrin, who has to deal with the accompanying boasting and teasing, he's never shown any real interest in literature or foreign languages before now. Then again, Oikawa is steady in all but passions. Though volleyball has stayed a constant in his life, a baseline of sorts, a safe hearth for him to return to from his adventures, he has gone from exploring photography, to art, to coding, to makeup, to film, and now, apparently, literature.

It does not matter, Hajime finds. In the end, he simply likes seeing Oikawa eager and talkative, with the light in his eye that cannot be found anywhere else.

"Wabi sabi," he repeats, and Oikawa nods, leaning into his side. He winds his hands around Hajime's arm, thumb rubbing along the sensitive skin in the crook of his arm. His fingers are cold, his hair tickles Hajime's neck, and his breath is warm where it permeates the material of his t-shirt, right over his collarbone and - dare he think it - his heart, and Hajime thinks that it wouldn't be so bad to go on like this. Forever, perhaps.

"Wabi sabi."

 

 

_Hajime recalls when he first discovered that he may, in theory, be head over heels for Oikawa. He does not remember when exactly he fell for his best friend, but he's always considered the discovery of his feelings to be that much more important, than when they precisely began to bloom._

_It is a Sunday morning like any other. Oikawa had slept over at his place, had stolen both his blanket and his bed like the hog he is, which means that Hajime is bound to wake up before him. Their guest futon is uncomfortable to say the least, lumpy and older than Hajime's grandmother, musty-smelling and Hajime isn't surprised he lets Oikawa steal his bed._

_It is then that he turns, taking in the sight of his best friend, deep asleep, a sight considered so rare, yet Hajime has seen it a thousand times, and he wears that badge with pride. The pillow has a spot of drool under Oikawa's open mouth, and there are thin and thick red lines drawing patterns across his skin, from the bedsheets pressing into his cheeks. He mumbles to himself, a few unintelligible words from the realm of dreams, and though Oikawa Tooru is anything but perfect, he is the most beautiful sight Hajime has ever seen._

_And oh, Hajime thinks._

_'Oh.'_

 

 

 

 

3.

" _Tadaima."_

Hajime slumps against the door to their shared apartment with what can only be categorised as a truly exhausted sigh. 

" _Okaeri_!" he hears from the living room, and immediately after shucking off his shoes, and neatly placing them in the rack, because Oikawa would kick up a fuss if he didn't, Hajime heads for the couch, where his real home awaits, Oikawa clad in colourful, stripy pyjamas and a sweater that used to belong to him, but now has Oikawa written all over it. He collapses next to Oikawa, patiently waits the ten few seconds it takes him to lift his laptop off his lap to place it somewhere else, and drops down, burying his face in his best friend's thighs. 

A little voice, quiet in the back of his head, warns him against getting used to gestures like these, because when Oikawa finds a new flame, a new girlfriend whom he will dedicate his entire life (minus volleyball) to, he won't be able to do this anymore. _Better not make it a habit, Hajime Iwaizumi,_ _before it becomes too hard to break_ _,_ it says, high pitched and sounding suspiciously like Navi, and Hajime feels a funny little frown take over his face, one caught between embarrassment and exasperation, because he's only been playing that damn game as a leisure, and definitely not enough for it to infiltrate his thoughts in such a manner _._

"Tired?" Oikawa asks him, and Hajime noses into the muscle of his thigh and nods.

"What's up?" he slurs, letting his eyes fall shut, because staying alone in his own thoughts for too long is going to make him go insane, he believes, and he wants to listen to Oikawa's voice, and wants none of his other senses to interfere. 

" _Forelsket_." Oikawa's thumb comes to press against the dip between Hajime's brow and the slope of his nose, smoothing out the frown lines.

"The fuck is that."

"It's Danish," Oikawa tuts, scolding him like Hajime is a child, and not a grown man splayed across his lap like a cat. "It refers to the overwhelming feeling of happiness when you are falling for someone."

"Huh," is the only reaction Hajime manages, because he still doesn't quite know what Oikawa wants him to do with this newfound set of information, and he's not sure he remembers ever experiencing an overwhelming feeling of happiness while falling for Oikawa. He remembers frustration, he remembers anger, and he remembers jealousy. He remembers fearing the time when Oikawa would inevitably accept another confession, and subject Hajime to the lovey-dovey talk, to the sight of him holding someone else's hand.

As if on cue, Oikawa's hand travels upward, distracting him from his thoughts. Long, slender fingers bury themselves in Hajime's hair, and he begins scratching at his scalp, and Hajime realises, just as the first of many pleasant shivers slither down his spine, that he may have been just a little pessimistic. 

"Overwhelmed, huh?" 

Oikawa hums. 

Hajime hides his grin in the material of Oikawa's pyjamas. It may actually be accurate, he thinks, but it doesn't stop at the fall. 

 

 

_Hajime cannot say there is a single moment where he felt overwhelmingly happy. Oikawa's mere presence is enough for him to feel content with where he is, to be permeated with satisfaction and to lie back, think to himself "I could die like this, and I would have no regrets". There is, however, one interaction that he will always hold close to him, that makes his heart swell at the mere memory._

_Hajime remembers the sun, he remembers feeling warm and sleepy, and he remembers the hard touch of his grandmother's wooden porch at his back, compared to the soft feeling of Oikawa's side pressed up against him, despite the summer heat. He remembers Oikawa holding a popsicle in one hand, and Hajime's with the other._

_He remembers that they said nothing to each other, that they did not make a single noise. He remembers that he has never been as happy as that exact day, when he thought to himself that perhaps being in love with his best friend wasn't so bad, if it'd always feel like this._

 

 

 

 

4.

Rubbing his fingers together against the winter chill, Hajime runs up the three flights of stairs that lead to their apartment. He barely checks whether their front door has closed properly, and does not bother to neatly place his sneakers in the shoe rack before making a beeline for Oikawa's room. 

Only the day prior had Oikawa shown symptoms of a cold, and like the stubborn mule he usually is, had ignored Hajime's advice to go out with a _scarf this time, Shittykawa._ In the morning, he could barely breathe, and the scratch of his voice was incredibly amusing to Hajime, but he'd felt bad enough for his best friend to run through the snow to the local grocery store, and stock up on vegetable broth, egg noodles and milkbread. Or perhaps, Hajime was just whipped enough that the sight of a red nosed, teary Oikawa was enough to make him run to the ends of the earth, if necessary. 

"I'm home," he announces, peeking his head through Oikawa's bedroom doorway. He finds Oikawa sitting on his bed, buried under both his and Hajime's duvets with his laptop on his lap, and Hajime can hear his breathing from a mile away, but he's still smiling like Hajime is the highlight of his day. Perhaps it is the truth, perhaps it is too much to hope for, but Hajime doesn't let himself dwell on such thoughts, not usually, and especially not when his best friend is in need of assistance. Still, staring at him for too long is a little uncomfortable, lest his stomach really does end up flying away with all the butterflies gathered inside of it. _Get it together,_ Hajime thinks. _You've been in love for so long this shouldn't fluster you so much._

"Welcome back," Oikawa croaks.

"I got you food," he says, and somehow, Oikawa's smile grows. He pats the space on the bed next to where he sits, bundled up and safe. 

" _Kweesten,_ " he says. 

"What?"

"It's Dutch. 'Inviting a lover to cuddle up in bed and chat'."

Hajime barely understands the words through Oikawa's clogged noise, and his voice, more nasally than usual, but he nods nonetheless, and settles himself down next to Oikawa's pile of blankets. 

"Which movie?" he asks, and Oikawa sniffles, grins, and presses play on his most recently found nature documentary. 

 

 

_Though many assume that Oikawa is the more physically affectionate of the two, Hajime cannot say that he agrees. Oikawa was not a touchy child, and even holding his hand to cross the road was a feat that required a great amount of patience and willpower. He wasn't always leaning into Hajime's side, wasn't always reaching for Hajime, wasn't always an arm's length away from Hajime._

_Hajime very clearly remembers the first time Oikawa wrapped his arms around his waist and cuddled up to him. An action movie playing in the background, the dip of their 10 year old couch beneath the weight of two 15 year olds, and the feeling of Oikawa's arms snaking around his waist. Hajime had begged any and all deities, as Oikawa flopped into his lap and nuzzled into his abdomen, that his best friend would not notice the way his heartbeat echoed, in his ears and, without a doubt, around the room._

 

 

 

 

5. 

"You two look chummy as always," Hanamaki says, almost by way of greeting, disgust painted bright and clear across his face. When Oikawa cocks his head in question, he gestures to his and Hajime's intertwined fingers. 

"Makki," Oikawa scolds, wagging a finger at his long time friend, though he lets go of Hajime's hand in order to do that, "just because college didn't turn out the way you planned, and you _still_ haven't gotten a girlfriend, doesn't mean you can take your frustrations out on Iwa-chan. It's not his fault he's too nervous to walk around crowded places without holding my hand."

Hajime, whose mouth is too full of burger to properly retort that _actually, Oikawa is the nervous one in crowds_ , simply grunts and glares at the both of them, hoping the warmth in his cheeks can be chalked up to the heat of the restaurant. He can't help the warm feeling spreading from his heart up into his throat. He briefly wonders if he'll even be able to swallow the mouthful of food when his heart is fighting to get out the same way. 

Hanamaki gasps, feigning offence, and drops into the bench across from them. 

"It's not like you would understand," Makki retorts with a huff, "you and your _bishounen_ genes."

"You're right. It's difficult to be this beautiful," Oikawa says, placing a hand over his forehead. "And that's something _you_ wouldn't understand."

"Oooh you little-" Hanamaki reaches across the table in an attempt to grab Oikawa's sweater. Oikawa screeches, kicking his feet under the table and ducking behind Hajime for safety. 

Matsukawa is quiet by their side, though he looks amused by their friends' tomfoolery, picking at Oikawa's fries while the other is distracted. Listening to Oikawa and Hanamaki's familiar banter is comfortable, and though Hajime soon finds himself pulled in front of Oikawa as a human shield, he finds that Oikawa's laughter is most beautiful when he's truly happy.

That same night, Oikawa tells him "Kilig," as he stands next to Hajime, applying his daily face wash at the same time as Hajime brushes his teeth. "It's 'the overwhelming sense of happiness when something good happens, usually with regards to romantic feelings'. It's Tagalog."

Hajime cannot reply, but Oikawa's reflection smiles at him through the mirror, gaze face covered in green paste and staring at Hajime through lowered lashes, and he can't help but grin back through the toothpaste foam.

 

 

_When Hajime first asks Oikawa whether he really wants to move in together, Oikawa looks at him like he's grown two extra heads._

_"Why would we not move in together?" he queries. Hajime doesn't quite know how to put it at the time, though looking back on it, he doesn't wish he'd been any more eloquent._

_"Well... you could want to move in with... someone else." When Oikawa doesn't seem to register what point Hajime is desperately trying to make, going as far as to stumble over his words - and Hajime is a man of his word, he does_ not _stumble - in order to truly get it across. "You know," he insists. "Someone you want to live your life with."_

_Oikawa tilts his head, the way he does when he doesn't understand a math problem on the first try, or when Hanamaki and Matsukawa make those obscure jokes of theirs, the kind that fly right over his head._

_"Why would I want to live my life with anyone other than Iwa-chan?" he retorts, and Hajime's not quite sure what gets to him more. The words themselves, or the innocent tone Oikawa has employed._

_There is, nevertheless, something he_ is _sure about, and it is that he has never felt happier than he did at that very moment._

_Because for all the bravado, for all the flaunting Oikawa does, he wants_ Hajime  _by his side, and no one else._

 

 

6.

" _Odnoliub._ " Oikawa says, when they're both sitting in the stifling warmth of an izakaya booth, steaming bowls of ramen sitting before the both of them. The smell wafts up and engulfs Hajime, and he feels himself salivating before he can help himself, but Oikawa demands his attention for now, and so he subtly turns to face his best friend. Oikawa's currently got his hands clasped together in prayer, a silent thanks to whatever greater power out there has put this food on his plate. Hajime likes this side of Oikawa's, the one that believes in the harmony of all things, the one that demands thankfulness for the good things in life. 

"What does it mean?"

"It's Russian," Oikawa explains, breaking apart his chopsticks and snapping the tip of them together, once, and twice. A tiny little habit of his. "It refers to someone who only has one love in their life."

Hajime snorts. He wonders whether Oikawa is aware that he has someone who fits this very description sitting right next to him. "Monogamous?" he queries instead. 

"A more romantic version, but I suppose it boils down to it, yeah."

"And how does the resident ladykiller feel about such a concept?" he teases. 

" _Iwa-chan,_ " Oikawa feigns offence, placing a delicate hand over his heart. "How dare you question my integrity, after all we've been through?" He swoons, tipping off his stool and Hajime immediately reaches out to stabilise him. Though Oikawa chuckles for a few seconds, he sobers up the moment Hajime's hand slips away from his back. "I was thinking more on the lines of," he trails off, staring into the depths of his untouched ramen bowl. Hajime watches him ruminate, lifting his own noodles to his mouth while he waits for Oikawa to emerge from his own mind. "It's a little bit lonely, isn't it?" he finally says, voice thin, like it'd been stretched out over miles and miles of thought.

"How so?" Hajime retorts through a mouthful of food. 

Oikawa's resulting smile is soft, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, imagine your one love never looking back at you."

He looks up at Hajime, eyes flickering like he's looking for something in Hajime's expression.

_Look at you,_ Hajime thinks, and he's mastered the art of the poker face so long ago that it's no trouble hiding his thoughts from his best friend. _Do you have any idea?_

"I suppose so." He turns back to his ramen, twisting his chopsticks into the noodles and bringing them up to his mouth. "Though if you're not in a relationship with that person in the first place, does the word still apply?"

Oikawa turns to his own food, twirling his own chopsticks into the broth. He doesn't eat much that night, Hajime notes, and he does not miss the flicker of disappointment that crosses Oikawa's face. 

Later that night, when he lays in bed, listening to Oikawa hum to himself through the thin walls of their apartment, Hajime thinks he may be doomed. 

 

_"Have you ever looked at someone else? Anybody?" Hanamaki asks him. Of course not, Hajime wants to shout. There's no one as perfect, as intriguing, as captivating as Oikawa is._

_"Even if I have to die alone," Hajime replies, "after watching him build a family with the partner of his dreams, I don't think I could ever look at someone else."_

_Though Hanamaki does not verbally reply to Hajime's misplaced declaration of love, the look he gives Hajime communicates everything he needs to say._

_'You poor fool', it seems to tell him, and Hajime is inclined to agree._

_There has never been a poorer fool than he._

_Hajime wakes up in a cold sweat, that day, plagued with the thought that he may have missed something in yesterday's conversation._

 

 

 

 

7.

"L'esprit de l'escalier," he tells Oikawa in the morning. His roommate, half asleep, only manages an eloquent 'hah?'. Hajime chuckles to himself, watches Oikawa squint at him, because he hasn't put his contacts in yet, and he's still blind as a bat. 

"It means 'to get out of a conversation and think of all the things you could have said.'"

Oikawa stares at him for a good while, mouth hanging open like a fish, and Hajime is tempted to reach over and prop his chin back up, or to tease him about it. _You're gonna catch flies like that, Sillykawa,_  even though it's the middle of winter and Oikawa may point out that flies don't survive the cold _._ Just as he thinks he may have broken Oikawa for good, the latter jerks up, eyes shining with something other than the morning glow, as he realises what Hajime has just told him. 

"Unfair, Iwa-chan! That's _my_ thing, you can't just steal it like that!" he whines, clinging to Hajime's sleeve. "I had a _plan!_ I had a plan and now you've gone and ruined _everything_."

Hajime grins, bag and sneakers at the ready, and opens the front door. He throws a "see you later, Tooru," over his shoulder, over his best friend's complaints, and steps out into the cold hallway. 

He does not catch Oikawa choking on his own words at the sound of his first name. 

 

 

 

8.

"Iwa chan," Oikawa greets him loudly, slamming his hands down on the table Hajime has settled down at. It jostles his cup, and Hajime barely catches it before it falls over.

"Can you quiet down?" Hajime hisses. "We're in a library."

Oikawa wordlessly slumps into the chair across from him, and crosses his arms over his chest. His face is set, like he's made a decision and will not budge until Hajime bends over and backwards to his will. Which, because he is predictable, and so, so in love, Hajime will do regardless of how determined Oikawa is. 

"Mamihlapinatapei," he says. 

"Pardon?"

"It's Yagan," Oikawa elaborates. 

Hajime stares at him, unsure whether Oikawa wants a verbal reply. Oikawa, on the other hand, seems to deflate under Hajime's scrutiny, in the smallest of ways. His shoulders slump, and his brow furrows, the way it does when he's afraid to take the next step forward. Hajime cocks an eyebrow. 

"It's a wordless," Oikawa's voice quivers, but he raises his gaze, determined and beautiful, to meet Hajime's. Electricity crackles along his skin, all the way to the tip of his fingers, but he dares not look away from his best friend's eyes. "A wordless yet meaningful look between two people who want to start something, but are both too scared to initiate it themselves."

Oikawa's words slowly sink into Hajime's very being, one by one, until they become part of him, until they spur him on, kickstart his heart and push him off his chair. 

"Is that what's happening right now?" he says, though his words don't sound like they're coming from him at all, but from somewhere far away, muted by snow and clouds and the horizon and feelings locked away for so long. Oikawa's eyes are shining, like he's been fighting tears since this morning and it's getting harder and harder to. 

He nods. 

Hajime, gentle in his movements, like he's dealing with a wild deer rather than the best friend he's known since they were children, takes his first step around the table. 

"How long?" he queries. 

"Do you really have to ask?" Oikawa chokes out, words caught between a sob and a chuckle.

"I suppose not." He's close now, standing over Oikawa, who's looking up at him in a way that makes him seem like he's waiting for his entire world to shatter within the next second, as if Hajime is, in any way,  _capable_ of walking away from him, capable of looking anywhere else but _him._ He leans down until his nose is a hair's breadth away from Oikawa's. 

"Got any more fancy words?" he queries. Oikawa shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He's shaking, almost imperceptibly, but anything almost imperceptible stands out to Hajime, when it comes to Tooru, because he's so used to watching him, by now. 

"Good," he growls, before he closes the distance between them. 

It's not a good kiss, objectively. Oikawa sobs into his mouth, and his lips are almost immediately wet from tears and spit and snot, but Hajime wouldn't have had it any other way. He reaches up, pressing his palms against tear-stained cheeks, and strokes his thumbs across them. 

Slender, cold fingers wrap around Hajime's wrists, and Oikawa tries to kiss him back, lips soft and moulding perfectly against his, but he's started hiccuping by now, and Hajime can't help but grin, pull back and look at the love of his life in all of his teary glory.

"Say it," Oikawa demands, wiping his nose with the end of his sleeve. 

"I love you," Hajime tells him. 

"Again."

"I love you."

Oikawa's eyes flutter shut, and he smiles. "Again," he says, and another tear rolls down his face. Hajime wipes it away, before he leans in and presses a firm kiss to Oikawa's cheek. 

"I love you," he whispers against Oikawa's skin. "I love you so much."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

海誓山盟 _\- haishishanmeng - the promise of eternal love_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> whoooohggj if u got this far im tipping my hat off to u


End file.
